


'cause there we are again in the middle of the night.

by allylikethecat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allylikethecat/pseuds/allylikethecat
Summary: He opened the door without checking the peephole, intending to let Charlie in and then go to bed himself.  He was going to have to re-watch this episode of Gauntlet anyway, he had completely missed who was being eliminated and why.He blinked. It wasn’t Charlie standing at his door.





	'cause there we are again in the middle of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I love this pairing so much and I don’t care if anyone else does. I also like making them suffer, (feelings!). Last nights game was a rollercoaster of emotions, and as someone who was raised as a Bruins fan, I don’t hate the outcome (though i definitely feel awful the Leafs lost the way they did) SO I write a thing about it because feelings. 
> 
> I don’t own any of these people, it’s all fake, I made it up, please don’t be offended by it, I mean no harm. 
> 
> Title is taken from All Too Well by Taylor Swift because it came on in the car when I was driving and also made me feel all kinds of things, just like this pairing and the game last night. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for clicking on this and taking the time to read it and all that jazz. I hope you’re having a great day! Please comment! It makes me the happiest person alive.

He hadn’t bothered to look through the peephole when banging on his door pulled him from his state of semi-coconsciousness. He had been sprawled on the couch watching Iron Chief Gauntlet reruns. He was exhausted, but still filled with too much residual adrenaline buzzing under his skin to go to sleep. He assumed that it was Charlie at the door. It wouldn’t be the first time he had appeared after a hard-fought win, or a devastating loss. Where David turned to Food Network, letting the unfamiliar words wash over him, lulling him into a state of calm, Charlie was a wanderer. He would often appear at David’s door, having walked from the apartment he shared with Anders in Charlestown to David’s own in the North End, clearing his head in the night air before passing out in the guest room. 

He opened the door without checking the peephole, intending to let Charlie in and then go to bed himself. Moving made him realize just how sore he was and falling asleep on the couch wasn’t going to help the situation. He was going to have to re-watch this episode of Gauntlet anyway, he had completely missed who was being eliminated and why. 

“What if I had sleeping-” David started, his words running together with exhaustion and general annoyance at the English language. He liked to give Charlie a hard time when he showed up unannounced, the younger boy knowing he wasn’t actually annoyed. He blinked. It wasn’t Charlie standing at his door. 

“Will?” He asked, confusion heavy in his voice, surprise pulling him from his sleepy state of mind. Of all the people he expected to show up at his apartment, at 1am after beating the Toronto in game seven of round one of the Stanley Cup playoffs, William Nylander wouldn’t have even made the list. 

William didn’t respond. His blond hair was mused, and there were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He had his arms wrapped around himself as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. William had barely touched him in the handshake line at the end of the game, his fingers ghosting over David’s wrist before moving to on to shake Marchy’s hand. He had moved away from David as if he was repulsed by him, like he couldn’t bare to be in his presence, let alone touch him. 

David knew that William didn’t handle loss well, he never had, he would withdraw into himself, lashing out at anyone who approached him with cutting anger, even though in reality the anger was directed at himself. After a first round exit, after a hard-fought series that came to a head in a disaster game seven, William’s devastation was extreme, but understandable. 

William hiccupped, “I’m sorry.” 

David stepped aside, letting his sometimes friend into his modest apartment. He locked the door behind him. He wasn’t sure why William was here, but he sent a silent prayer that Charlie didn’t show up too. He fiddled with the hem of his tank top, waiting for William to speak, hoping that he wasn’t the one expected to open the conversation. He didn’t know the words to describe what he was thinking, what he was feeling, be it in Czech or English. 

He looked up to meet William’s eyes, hoping to encourage him to speak. William had moved closer, he was half a step away from David now, close enough that David was suddenly very aware that he was close enough to feel the heat from Williams body. He reached out tentatively, unsure in his movements before he gently ran his fingers against David’s jaw, taking in the course growth of dark blonde hair. David couldn’t help but notice that William was clean shaven. He refused to feel guilty.

William pressed his fingers into the soft underside of David’s jaw, he took a step forward, hesitantly, giving David an out that it never even occurred to him to consider taking before pressing their mouths together. William tasted like whiskey, having attempted to drown his sorrows in the hotel mini bar, before being trapped in the bland little room, full of so much sadness became too much. Before he felt like he was suffocating, and that if he didn’t leave he would drown. 

He’s not sure how he ended up at David’s condo. He’s surprised he was even able to remember the addresses when he murmured it to a cabbie that took pity on him and his pocket full of Canadian dollars. He went where he felt safe, even if he didn’t know if he would be wanted. He had only been there once before. 

David swallowed back a whimper as William pressed himself flush against him, backing him up until he was pinned against the front door. He broke the kiss, and nudged William off of his person, suddenly hyper aware of what they were doing and the liquor on William’s tongue. William’s face fell and he took another step back. Shame coloring his features. 

“I should go,” he said, meaning to move towards the door before realizing that would put him even closer to David. David shook his head, not sure if this entire exchange was some kind of sleep deprivation induced dream. 

David shook his head, William couldn’t leave, not now. 

“I’m sorry,” William said again when David didn’t move from his place against the front door. William’s words sounded even more broken than they had before. David let his eyes rack over the body of his sometimes friend. Clean shaven jaw, messy hair, and dark circles under bloodshot eyes, skinny and bruised after a rough season. He was defeated in more ways than one. 

“You’re drunk,” David said, for lack of anything else to say. Subconsciously he raised a hand to his lips, thinking of the warm confident press of William’s mouth. How underneath the whiskey was the taste of his youth. 

“Not really,” William said, “not anymore.”   
“I’m tired,” David said, exhaustion settling heavily in his bones. William looked worse than he felt, young and fragile. There was so much between them that was unsaid, they were teetering on the edge of a cliff, one false move could send them tumbling to the ground, but at the same time, they were so close to being saved. David wasn’t going to risk falling to his death at one in the morning after beating William’s team in game seven. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” David said, swallowing a yawn. William nodded, a flicker of hope coloring his watery blue eyes. David had loved him once, he wondered if William coming here was his chance to love him again.


End file.
